Page 15 of Brought to Light
I’d expected to walk in the same order we’d been in while in the labyrinth, but as I tried to fall into step with Kaspar, he shook his head and grimaced at me. “Your guard dog’s not going to be happy unless he has you closer than that,” he said. My guard dog? My mouth fell open, but Kaspar went on. “And I don’t fancy having him staring a hole in the back of my neck while I talk to you. It feels like being one step ahead of Death.”
He took point with Oskar, letting his light lead the way, and I set out with Callum at my side. I glanced at him as we walked. He did seem more relaxed, though it couldn’t possibly be because he was walking with me rather than watching me walk with Kaspar, could it? When I stumbled over an uneven clump of grass, his hand shot out and wrapped around my arm.
And then he left it there, his fingers strong and firm. When he’d pulled me out of the town and into the woods in the human realm, his grip had felt like a threat. It hadbeena threat. This was different, and I wanted to lean into him the way I would’ve leaned into Kaspar, taking comfort from physical closeness and the sense of security provided by not being alone.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was safe with Callum, whether or not it was true.
Oh, the hell with it. I shifted a little closer, so that our bodies were almost brushing as we walked. Callum’s stride stayed as determined as ever. He didn’t seem to be flagging at all, even though we’d both gone the ancestors only knew how long without food, water, or sleep, and were now getting by on the strength of a few bites of bread. Time didn’t have much meaning in the labyrinth, but my aching stomach and feet knew it had been longer than they preferred.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked him quietly. “Or hungry for something better than bread and water?”
I felt his shrug as his arm shifted. “Yes. But it’s irrelevant until I can do something about it.”
My stomach chose that moment to make its feelings known, loudly. Maybe Callum was satisfied, but my belly wasnot. “I wish I could ignore it too.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.” His tone didn’t invite further questions.
All right, we didn’t need to talk. But that didn’t prevent me from wanting more than trudging along side by side in silence. It would be a good self-protective measure to keep him invested in my safety and well-being. I’d tell myself that over and over if I needed to, to drown out the insistent little voice saying what I wished I could deny: that I wanted to be closer, the danger be damned. I’d seen how intent Callum could be, how focused. I wanted that focus on me, even if there was danger in it.
Perhaps especially if there was danger in it. The nice, quiet young men I’d known at home had never excited me—a flaw in my fundamental make-up, I’d always assumed. Callum’s hand around my throat had made me ache in ways I couldn’t bear to acknowledge. The contrast of it…he could hurt me, or he could choose not to. At home, where options were limited, would-be lovers approached me because there weren’t many others. I wanted to be someone’s choice. I wanted the thrill of the full attention of a man who could’ve dismissed me, who could’ve killed me.
Clearly I had something broken in me, but right then I couldn’t care about it. All I wanted was to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Callum would be watching over me. He had to be exhausted too, no matter how well he hid it. Perhaps that made me selfish on top of broken.
We’d crested a small rise and were temporarily going downhill now, with another small valley spread out beneath us. The moon and stars here shone so much brighter than in the human realm, even after accounting for the light pollution of human cities. Bigger, and somehow sparklier, glinting like diamonds in the dark velvet of the night sky. Even the sky itself had more texture, more presence. At the bottom of the hill a shallow river wound its way between grassy banks, the wet rocks along the edges and sticking up in the middle throwing out faint blue and pink gleams in the moonlight and smaller glimmers from the beams of the stars.
Ahead of us, Oskar and Kaspar stepped apart slightly to avoid a little hillock. I saw it, but I pretended I didn’t, letting my foot catch on it and tripping with a quiet cry of ‘surprise.’
Callum let go of my arm and caught me around the waist, cinching me against his side before I could do more than sway toward the ground. “Careful,” he said, his voice unusually rough. “If you break a leg, I don’t think there are any hospitals around here.”
I smiled, my head tipped down so he couldn’t see my face. There. Concern. Care, even. This man wouldn’t kill me, I was sure of it.
He could, but he wouldn’t.
And his arm around me felt so good. I leaned into it, leaned into him. His body had a solidity that mine lacked—not that I felt I lacked anything, really. My body was just right as it was. And his fit just right against mine.
We stayed that way until we reached the river, where we had to separate to pick our way across the ford Oskar pointed out, a path across where the gravel bed rose high enough to make the water no more than knee-deep. But he was there again as I sloshed up the opposite bank, my very human sneakers waterlogged and squishing with every step. Without comment, he slipped his arm around me again as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Trees closed in around us as we made our way up the hill. We paused after a few hundred yards while Oskar looked around, finding the almost-hidden path through the woods. He grunted in satisfaction and led us a little to the left. Finally, as my eyes were blinking closed more often than blinking open again and I no longer needed to pretend to stumble, we stepped out into the small clearing that held the lodge, which was little more than a mossy-roofed, dilapidated cottage.
My eyes tried to slide shut again, and I forced them open for a second. My eyelids drooped. Callum was carrying me more than walking with me, and my head kept bouncing onto his shoulder as I tried to lift it up again. Ancestors, but my legs were made of granite. Aching, burning granite. A headache throbbed in my temples.
“Linden, are you all right?” Kaspar. He sounded annoyingly awake. Of course, he’d probably had a full night’s sleep and a meal before his visit to the labyrinth, the bastard. “Is he hurting you?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled into Callum’s shoulder. “Just let him put me to bed. Please tell me there is a bed, and we’re not sleeping on bedrolls.” I hadn’t been to the lodge in years, and I had no idea what improvements Oskar had made in the meantime.
“For a certain value of bed,” Kaspar grumbled, and Oskar cut in with, “I didn’t see you contributing anywhere to sleep for the night, Kas.”
We shuffled inside, Callum maneuvered me through the damp, chilly front room that seemed to hold more spiders than furniture, food, or cheer—hoping for improvements since the last time I’d been here had clearly been too optimistic—and then I was lying down on something dusty but softer than a flagstone or bare earth.
Sleep sucked me into its vortex almost instantly, but I had time to smile over Kaspar and Oskar’s familiar grousing, and then to have that smile fade away as I realized I was going to sleep, leaving them with Callum. Who didn’t speak their language, or the other way around.
Well, fuck.
I fell asleep anyway.
Chapter Eight
Callum
